A Squatter in the House of Sam
by Phx
Summary: Born under a Bad Sign missing scene. Dean has a tough decision to make. He still remembers what happened the last time they did this.


Happy birthday to my dear friend, Christy, who asked if I could write this missing scene for her. And just how could I resist? So here it is. Spoilers obviously for Born Under a Bad Sign.

This missing scene is set after Bobby pops possessed Sam and Dean arrives. So just before we see Sam tied in the chair... I hope you like!

**- A Squatter in the House of Sam –**

**A missing scene for Born under a Bad Sign**

"What the hell, boy? You alright?" was Bobby's greeting when he opened the door and saw Dean Winchester practically swaying on his doorstep. He grabbed the man's arm and pulled him inside where Dean shrugged him off and scrubbed a hand down his pain lined face.

"Yeah – it's just been kinda hell. Is he here?" Dean was exhausted, hurting and worried about his brother._ Meg_. Just the thought of her sent shards of anger digging like glass across his skin… and she'd stolen his brother. Sam. _Sammy._ Dean had no idea if – no when – they exorcised her just how much of his brother there would be left. And if he was strong enough to help Sam through, whatever the hell Sam was going to have to get through.

But all doubt left his mind when Bobby stepped aside and he saw the kid unconscious on the floor. He'd save his brother because he didn't know how to do anything else.

"Bobby!" he scolded, hurrying towards Sam and crouching down next to him, calloused fingers quick to press against a cold throat. Thump. Thump. Thank God…

Bobby's knees creaked as he crouched down next to the boys. "Don't you Bobby me – I was as careful as I could be. You think he just fell on the floor? Idjit." His gaze softened as he looked down at Sam. "Both of ya."

Dean sat back on his heels and blew out a huffed sigh, his eyes never left his brother. "What do we do now?"

"What do you think? We exorcise this bitch and get your brother back." Bobby spoke like it was the most obvious thing in the world… but it wasn't.

"I don't know," Dean wavered, his voice thick. "I just keep remembering…"

"Remembering?" Bobby frowned and stood up. "Sorry, kid, this old body can't stay down like that for very long." He winced as his knee popped again.

"The first Meg – the one we exorcised. She died, Bobby, _died_!" Dean stood and paced the small spot in front of his brother. He knew they didn't have much time before Sam regained consciousness but things weren't as simple as Bobby made them sound and Dean was having trouble thinking properly. His head hurt, his arm throbbed, his heart ached… "I can't let Sammy die. I just can't lose him, Bobby._ I can't_."

"Whoa, wait a second, kid," Bobby held up his hands in placation. "No one's dying here tonight – least of all you or Sam."

Dean clung to the words like the promise they were, his eyes fixed on the older hunter, hopeful and scared. Sam was his weak spot; '_Sam in danger_' messed up Dean's ability to think rationally, to think at all, in this case.

"I got a chair set up in the living room. Devil's trap. The full meal deal. First," Bobby held up his finger to silence Dean when Dean opened his mouth. "We check the kid and see what we're going to be looking at once that bitch is out of him, then we get him in that chair and get the bitch out of him. I was just going to get the first aid kit when you showed up."

Now it made sense why Bobby had Sam on the floor like this and Dean swallowed, humbled that he could think Bobby hadn't thought this out. Sam wasn't going to end up like blond Meg. No way in hell. They'd both learned a lot since then. His gaze raked over his brother's still body again. "Okay," his voice was hoarse and he cleared his throat before continuing. "That's a plan. A good plan."

Bobby rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Idjit," once again before leaving the room to get the kit.

Dean took a deep breath as he crouched back down by his brother and gently rolled Sam on to his back. Part of him was anxious to get this over with, to find out just how badly Sam was messed up, and another part was furious that Meg dared touch his brother at all, let alone like this. Possession was so intimate, such a violation, Dean could only hope Sam had been locked away somewhere deep inside and wasn't aware of whatever crap the demon carried off with, while running amok in the house of 'Sam'.

He started at the obvious, running careful fingers through his brother's hair looking for head injury. He winced at Sam's bloody nose and took a moment to wipe away the blood, relieved that the nose and none of the facial bones seemed broken. Bobby must have punched the kid since, luckily, there was no evidence of other head trauma. Dean counted that as a win, although a small once since Meg didn't tend to like those kinds of things either. She tended to go more for soft tissue injury, internal bleeding, all that crap that could kill his brother within minutes of Dean and Bobby freeing him.

Swallowing against the bile that rose in the back of his throat, Dean continued on.

Ribs felt good, the flesh a bit warm in places – bitch probably had the kid mix it up with the locals somewhere – but nothing some cold compresses or a hot water bottle wouldn't fix. Taking a deep breath, Dean steeled his resolve and started to press on his brother's stomach and lower abdomen.

"How's he doing?" Bobby asked gruffly as he set the kit down on the table.

"So far, so good," Dean admitted, surprised as there was no swelling, bullet wounds, knife gouges or anything else that appeared life threatening in his dedicated triage. Sam groaned softly and shifted slightly under his fingers. Dean stilled, his heart starting to pound.

"Aw, shit," Bobby exhaled loudly. "We're running out of time here, Dean."

Dean nodded, his fingers moving more quickly now.

"We got to make a decision here," Bobby added needlessly.

"I know," Dean admitted, relief heavy, when he finished and realized just how lucky Sam seemed to be. If any of this could be called lucky. Kid was banged up for certain but nothing that would kill if they went through with the most obvious plan. "We do this, Bobby." He looked up at his old friend. "We get this bitch out of my brother and send her back to hell."

"Amen to that," Bobby easily agreed. He tipped his head towards Sam. "Anything special we going to need for, you know, afterwards?" His eyes slid to the first aid kit.

"I don't know," Dean admitted, his fingers reaching up of their own accord to push the long hair out of his brother's face. "A couple of beers, maybe?"

Bobby smiled, his own relief just as evident as Dean's. "You can count on that. Now c'mon, let's get your brother to the other room, and get this done. The demon in him is stinking up my house."

Dean nodded. "Damn straight – let's do this." But before he made any effort to move his brother, Dean leaned over and whispered; his words for Meg and Sam only. "Meg, you bitch, you hear this: You made your worst mistake by going after my brother – we're coming to get you… and you're going down. Way the hell back down." He swallowed hard, his voice softening marginally. "And Sammy – if you can hear me – hold on, bro, we're coming to get you… that's a promise, little brother, you just hang on." Then pulling away, Dean turned to Bobby and gave him a nod.

It was time.

The End


End file.
